Regaining Blue
by Piggwidgeon
Summary: Ginny finally moves on from her seventh year at Hogwarts, letting go of everything and everyone that was lost.


Disclaimer: I don't own Potter Property.

AN: written for sick-atxxheart's feelings challenge. I apologize for the lack of regret, but it kind of got out of hand.

3

Regaining Blue

When I look up into the clouds, I know the sky is that deep, crisp blue that lights up the sky at autumn, contrasting brilliantly with the fiery leaves and the stolid green grass, but the sky does not look blue. I know it is -- I know it deep in my heart, deeper than I know that Fred is dead and I'm back at Hogwarts and Hermione is sitting in the Gryffindor dormitory right now and life is going on like it always has. I know it there in that place. Lodged between the past and the future, my present circumstances and my utmost fears. I feel it there. I feel it dredged up and resurrected, poignant against the harsh facts of daily scholarly activity, against the reality that the Goblin Rebellion changed human-goblin relations for ever, against the scarcity of information about the Battle of Hogwarts, against the cold nonchalance of disgusting purebloods across the world towards the deaths of members of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army, against life.

It should be blue. But it isn't. I've seen blue before, the brilliant pristine pools staring deep into the depths of the pain around us, cutting away the fears and inhibitions restricting our actions, bringing out the Gryffindor in all of us. I've seen blue change lives. I've seen blue change mine. I've seen blue do more good for Hogwarts than any other color in the universe. And I've seen it fade into nothingness, the reality of so many, the destiny of us all.

This isn't blue. The sky. The lake. The Ravenclaw banners. They're a weak imitation. The beautiful blue I've come to love is lost. The blue that led a school to victory. The blue that fearlessly confronted the Carrows and ended up almost dead. The blue that loved others more than he loved himself. The blue that I love.

I wish I had told him that. I wish I had looked him in the eyes, humbled by the power of that blue, brought to my knees by his compassion and courage and consideration, awed by him, by his personality and his power, and told him: "I love you". I love him. Loved? No, definitely love.

A lot was shared between the two of us -- a lot of pain, a lot of pleasure, but not those words. If I had seen him before the battle, if had known he was going to die, if I had any inkling of where he was going to end up, I would have pinned him against the wall, cursed him, told him to stay put, hexed him, charmed him, bound him still, and told him. And not let him move.

That would have killed him, though. He cared too much. Those blue eyes would have dimmed to something unrecognizable. A blurry grey, maybe. Not fighting, being held back like that, it would have killed him. In time, it would have killed me.

I wonder what blue would have shone through his eyes if I had told him. If I had said those words to him, meant them, whispered them when he was kissing my neck, muttered them when he was taking it a bit farther, explained to him what I honestly thought of him without any inhibitions, any worry of rejection or what he thought of me.

Inhibitions. Those always kill me. I'm always so cautious. I don't even know why. Even when I was with Michael, I didn't let him do much more than kiss. Dean only snogged me once. After Ron caught us, I didn't want to try it again. I wouldn't let Harry initiate anything. It was always on my terms. And even then, my terms were very restricted. But with his blue filling my mind, taking away the pain of the world around me, making me forget about the corruptness of the ministry, comforting me in ways Michael and Dean and Harry and all my brothers never could, my inhibitions were gone. I touched him in ways I would never have dreamed to touch anyone else. He touched me in ways I wouldn't have let anyone else touch me. We were each other's first. And I was his last.

I wish there had been more. I wish we had more time, more moments. I wish _I_ had more time. I wish I had taken the time to step back with him and just be with him. I wish he was still here, his blue, his reassuring nature, his strong hand, his sure attitude. I wish I could still ask him anything and he would answer with his usual casual response that was somehow riddled with so much wisdom I can hardly believe it. I wish I had protected him more, protected that brilliant blue he carried with such dignity, protected us.

But I didn't. I wonder if I even could. What could I have done? Nothing. Colin always had his own sense of duty that not even I could impinge on. I wish I told him I loved that about him.

"Ginny?"

I sat up and watched Harry approaching from the bottom of the lake, Ron and Hermione trailing behind him, their hands locked together.

"Hey, Harry,"

I tried desperately to push past the gagging pain of seeing his green eyes behind his glasses rather than his blue, the regret of seeing his messy black hair instead of his neat brown, of seeing Harry's lithe frame instead of his stocky build. Shivers ran up my spine, blue filled my vision. Honest, pure, Colin blue. I struggled to push back the tears beginning to surface. I hoped Harry didn't notice. The last thing I want is for him to think I'm still soft over the battle, almost a year later. Hermione cast me a knowing glance, her eyes tender. Still. She can still read me like a book, no matter how hard I tried to hide it.

"Erm…I was just wondering…McGonagall gave us the ok to go to Hogsmeade…if you'd like…you know, the two of us…to go…together…"

I looked up at him and knew he was nervous. He can't hide it, at least not to me. He shifts and his eyes stare at the grass and his hands are lodged in his pocket. I want to go with him, I want to leave behind the lake and the sky, their blue, even if they are a faded replica of his blue, the blue I want and desire and remember and need. The one I don't want to forget. The blue I don't want to be edged out by green. The blue I'm afraid I will forget.

For a second, when looking at Harry, it almost feels as if he is looking at me. The blue wraps around me with his comforting embrace, whispering words in my ear.

"Go with him," the blue said. "He's a good guy. He's brave and stuff, you know. He may not be as good in bed as me, the milkman's son, but, you know, that kind of thing is inevitable." I shift against the grass, crossing my legs. "You're going to regret it if you don't go. I don't want you to regret. God knows you've had enough regret for a year."

I bowed my head, knowing for a fact that my tears were visible to Ron who was nearly a quidditch pitch away.

"Is…is something wrong?" Harry whispers, his eyes wide and scared. He is such a boy sometimes. I give him a slight grin and shook my head, trying to get the courage, the strength, the something to speak.

"Harry," Hermione says, quickly covering the distance between them and us. "Maybe now…maybe now isn't a…Merlin, Ron, give me a second! You're acting like a lost puppy again! Look, Harry, Ginny's.."

"I'm fine, Hermione," I say, grimacing at the weakness of my voice, the way it cracks under the weight of…of something. I clear my throat. "Yes, Harry, I'd love to go to Hogsmeade with you."

"But…" Hermione's brow furrows. "I thought…"

"It doesn't matter." I stand up and brush off my pants, my blue jeans, and was struck by their color. Blue. Real blue. Collin's blue. It eases my inhibition and calms my nerves. Inhaling deeply, I look to Harry. "Sorry. I'm just…a little off today."

"No, that's fine, Gin," Harry says, looking up from under his overgrown bangs, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Hermione, she's fine," Ron says, grabbing her hand again.

"He's right," I say, looking at her. "Thanks, though."

"We're talking later," Hermione says seriously.

"As in sometime after I leave," Ron says, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

"Get off of me!" Hermione twitches away from him.

"We should get out of here before it gets worse," Harry whispers, offering his trembling hand.

Behind his head, the blue sky screams at me, "Just do it, Ginny."

I nod, putting my hand in his, feeling as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.


End file.
